


More Than Waves and Particles

by titC



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe has some well-deserved me-time, Ebony cameo, F/M, Feelz, Fluff, Food Fights, Heavy-handed metaphors, Jewelry, Lucicat, No one dies!, Or not, Pillow Talk, SO MUCH FLUFF, Trixie loves everybody, but don't trust the tags, dad Dan, everybody loves Trixie, foot in mouth Lucifer, it shines bright like a diamond, look these tags are just going to give you the wrong idea about what's in the fic so just you know, read it, the future president of Mars has plans, tipsy Luci
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: it starts as a quiet night, it ends in a quiet sunrise.it's soft and fluffy in the middle.





	More Than Waves and Particles

Sometimes, just sometimes, Chloe wondered what her life would be if Dan and her had never divorced. Would they have mended their bridges, would they have given Trixie a little sister or brother? Would they have been happy? Tonight was one of those times, and she felt half wistful, half guilty for thinking about that as she drove to Lux.

But how could she not think about it, after a day spent with Dan and their little monkey? They’d gone to the Griffith observatory in the afternoon and had been treated to a lesson on how the future President of Mars would rule the planet; and then – even though it wasn’t Tuesday – they’d made tacos together: they’d peeled and mashed and chopped, Trixie had giggled and Chloe had barely prevented a food fight between father and daughter. Maybe she shouldn't have, it was Dan’s kitchen after all and cleaning it was _his_ problem. She smiled at the memory of the blob of cream on his nose, his wide surprised eyes and the gleam of revenge in them, the challenge in Trixie’s.

Full and happy, they’d piled up on his couch to watch _The_ _Nightmare_ _Before_ _Christmas_ , singing (and mangling) the songs together until Trixie had fallen asleep between them, the light from the DVD menu making her face colorless and eerie.

“Thank you,” he’d whispered over their daughter’s dark hair.

“For what?”

He’d looked down at Trix. “I wish we could do that more often.”

“Yeah.” So did she, always. So she wished. Being a family, far away from work and reality... but that was it: it simply couldn't be reality, couldn't be forever.

“You’re happy, right? Both of you.” Before she could answer, he’d hurried on. “No, I know you are, it’s just… I miss this.”

“I know. Me too.” She’d smiled a little. “But you’re a good dad.”

“I try to be. I wasn’t always.”

“That's in the past. We’re good now. We’re good for her.”

“I guess. It just… it feels like we’re sharing her with so many people now, and – I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Chloe, and I know Maze or Lucifer would never let any harm come to her and we’ve got an entire team of babysitters she loves and… it’s just…” He’d sighed.

“She’s only got one dad and it’s you, Dan. No one is trying to take your place.”

He’d brushed away some hair that had fallen over Trixie’s closed eyes. “There’s so much room in her, Chloe. For everyone.”

“Yeah.” He was right, there was. She welcomed everyone in her life, she’d charmed Maze from day one and Lucifer could never say no to her. Chloe could understand Dan, who loved his little girl and had to see her open her heart so easily. It was hard not to be afraid, hard not to be jealous, hard not to want to be the only one for her. Be her only heroes forever. But that wasn’t how life worked, was it? That wasn’t how being a parent worked. You loved them, you supported them, you caught them when they stumbled; and you watched them walk away from you.

They’d remained silent after that, lost in their thoughts and their little cocoon there on his couch, until finally he’d put Trixie to bed and she’d gathered her things.

“Well, I’m leaving. Don’t let her have too much chocolate, Maze already caves in way too easily.”

“Well, you know me. Stern dad all the way.” He’d grinned. He still had that nice, bright grin she’d fallen in love with, all those years ago. It hadn’t been enough, in the end; but it still had made her smile back at him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you on Monday, right?”

“Yup. Now go get your man, I’m sure he’s pining for you.” His eyes had fallen on the tiny, featherlight stone she wore around her neck. It was a present from Lucifer, and while he’d never admitted what stone it was exactly she assumed it was terribly expensive. It often seemed to gently glow – a trick of the light, probably, or so she chose to believe – and she’d curled her fingers around it self-consciously when Dan had seemed unable to tear his gaze away.

“He’s probably down at the club having fun.”

“Still pining. You know it, Chloe.” He’d punched her shoulder lightly, kissed her cheek and off she’d gone, her thoughts whirling about in her head while her car went past streetlamps and neon lights that each reminded her of a past Lucifer still carried in his name, but never talked about. Maybe one day, she thought. Maybe one day.

 

She didn’t go through Lux itself after parking in her own space – it had her badge number painted on it and she knew he’d finally memorized it after his stint in the desert. She didn’t feel like noise and music and crowds after her day, and so she rode up the elevator directly to the penthouse. He wasn’t there, of course; although there were sunflowers on the piano and a little note under the vase – _text me when you get here_ , it said, _and I’ll come straight up. They don’t compare_.

She smiled a little, but didn’t send him a message right away. First, she poured herself some of his favorite cognac in a cut crystal glass, just to have a taste of him linger in her mouth as she went for a soak in his bathtub. It was early still for him and she was sure he’d approve her enjoying some of the finer things in life; and what she craved right now was some time for herself. Nothing was urgent; no child to care for, no murder to solve, no fallen angel demanding her attention. She could indulge, and so she would.

 

She was reading on his bed when she heard the elevator doors swish open.

“Detective!” Well, Lucifer sounded cheerful. “Chloe,” he said. She looked up at him, framed by the warm light from the main room, tall and lean and clearly tipsy, leaning against the wall and his entire body loose. He’d lost his usual upright posture, and the soft smile that appeared every time he said her name widened a little as he stared at her wrapped in one of his robes. “How’s the offspring? And Daniel?”

“Good. She loved the Tesla coil and she said she’d have cool lightning storms on Mars when she is president. She wants to thank you, by the way.”

He shuddered. “No need, Ebony owed me a favor.”

“Still, it was nice to get a private session just for Trix.”

He waved a languid hand as if to dismiss the conversation, and she let it go. It would only make him uncomfortable if she insisted, but she’d always make sure his gestures were recognized and openly appreciated. And one day, it wouldn’t make him uncomfortable anymore. His dark eyes went back on her. “I felt you come in, you know. Hours ago. And you were _here_ , in _my_ bed.”

“Well, I was in your tub first.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did. How did you know I was here?”

“Well, I work with a detective, you know. I’m very observant.” She raised her eyebrows and tried to keep a straight face. “And I got drunk. _You_ got me drunk.” He seemed rather pleased with that as he started to remove his cufflinks and take off his shoes before disappearing in the bathroom. She heard water splashing and after a minute or two he came out, barefoot and his hair and face still wet as if he’d dunked his head under the faucet. Maybe he had. She turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Feeling better?”

He knelt at her feet and looked up at her. Tiny droplets were clinging to his eyelashes, and she saw he’d removed his signature eyeliner. “You’re here,” he said, as if it was all the answer she needed. His fingers circled her ankles, light and delicate; and he closed his eyes when he parted the silk with the tip of his nose to kiss her knee. She wasn’t wearing anything under his robe.

“Lucifer,” she said.

“Hm.”

“You’re like a cat sometimes, you know?” A cat without whiskers, but his usual stubble was long enough tonight that it was more soft than raspy against the thin skin at the top of her thighs.

“Mnot,” he murmured.

She buried her fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp, gentle and slow; and he pushed into her hand. “Yes you are,” she said, just as low. “I wanted a cat for years.”

“But?” His fingers kept lightly stroking her calves, his breath warm on her naked legs.

She shivered, and kept her scratching. “My mother didn’t like them, Dan was allergic… it just never happened.”

“Why not get one now?”

She smiled. So much for his professed dislike. “Now, I have you.”

She felt his lips curve against her skin. “That you do, Detective. That you do.”

He didn’t seem to want more tonight than just be near her, his head pillowed on her thigh; and if she were honest with herself this – just this – felt good, felt enough tonight. Felt more than enough. She was sleepy after an entire day with an excited Trixie, he was drowsy from all the alcohol he’d drunk near her. The mood was quiet. The sounds of the world around them were muffled and faraway, wafting up from the street; even the lights seemed to be dimming as the minutes went past and they hardly moved – just his dry palms on her skin, her fingertips on his scalp. His breathing slowing down, her eyelids heavier and heavier.

“Let’s sleep,” she whispered into the almost dark.

He didn’t answer, and so she moved her hand from his hair to his shirt, undoing a button, another. He stirred a little, fumbled open a few himself. He didn’t even open his eyes when she pushed the fabric down his arms although he did finally tug it entirely off, albeit about as gracefully as an exhausted kitten. “M’good here,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh. Come on, up you get.” She tugged on his arm, and with a long sigh he slid up along her body and took her down with him to lay on the bed, his arm around her waist and his forehead on her shoulder-blade. She turned to face him and undo his belt, and finally with a bit of wriggling managed to get them both naked and under the black satin sheet in spite of his octopus impression. The devil was a cuddler, and it apparently got worse when he was tipsy.

Chloe smiled up into the dark, and curled a bit more into his warmth, and realized they’d never turned off the lights. _Prince of darkness_ , she thought.

He stirred behind her, and she felt his breathing change against her nape. His fingers tangled with hers and brought their joined hands up to her necklace, warm on her skin. “Bringer of dawn,” he whispered into her hair.

Her eyes opened. She was pretty sure she hadn’t spoken out loud. “Lucifer?” His only answer was the press of lips behind her ear. “Lucifer,” she asked into the night. “How many names do you have?”

His sigh made her hair flutter against her skin. “Only the one. All others are… descriptions. Titles.” His voice was still low but he didn’t sound as mellow, as languid as before.

“Do you miss it?”

His fingers tightened around hers. “It belongs to my father. I don’t.”

“You never talk about… about then. Before.”

“Chloe… Chloe, please.” He’d become so tense his hand was trembling around hers, around her pendant. “Can’t we sleep? Aren’t you tired?”

“You never told me what that stone was. If it’s even a stone.” He remained silent. “Is it?”

Her back was suddenly cold and she turned to find him flat on his back, eyes on the ceiling. What little light there was came from the never-sleeping city, the muted glow of Los Angeles streets softening the edges of the penthouse. The shadows changed on the walls, deepened in the grooves and lengthened behind them. Still, she waited.

“It’s…” He avoided her eyes, but she knew he wouldn't lie and – more than that – he’d try to answer her. “It’s not. It’s me. It’s… light.” He touched it, and this time it was unmistakable. It was alight, like a little star over her collarbone, right where her blood and air and will was flowing. “I just wanted a part of me… here.” He finally looked at her. “Something you’re wearing.” His voice rose a little, unsure.

“I’m not taking it off,” she answered. _I’m not leaving you_ , she meant. _Ever_.

“Oh. That… that’s good.” He gave her the tiniest, happiest, most sincere smile and she leaned forward to kiss his nose and watch it crinkle and hear his little laugh.

She smiled back at him. “Yes it is.” The not-stone was warm against her skin. “How does it work? The part of you thing. Don’t you need it?” Was it yet another of his reckless gestures?

“It’s safe with you.” She frowned a little so he went on, his fingers smoothing out her forehead. “I promise.”

“Alright.” She tilted her head in thought and he waited, looking at her like he often did in their quiet moments together – like he still didn’t know why she hadn’t left his bed yet like everyone else he’d ever slept with, like she was a mystery he’d never solve. A miracle, he’d said once. “So, does this mean I get a fancy Latin title too?”

“What?”

“Well, if I’m carrying light around… Isn’t that what _Lucifer_ means?”

“Oooh, do you want to be Mrs Lucifer then?” His eyes widened comically. “I mean – ”

Now was not the time to laugh at his embarrassment, but maybe she could deflect instead. “I’m not sure you’re ready to be Trixie’s _official_ step-dad right as she enters her teens.” She settled back on the bed, entwining her fingers with his as he turned on his side to better face her. The light from her necklace faded and they were in the dark again, his slow, deep breaths threatening to lull her into sleep sooner than she wanted to. “You’re weird about names, you know.”

“I am?” Their voices had become low murmurs. Chloe wondered how far away dawn was.

“You are. Even now, you hardly ever call me by my name. It took you months to sometimes use Dan’s name and even then you’re the only one to call him Daniel. Most of the time you use Linda’s title and you say _Ms Lopez_ instead of _Ella_ like everyone else does. And Trixie… I think I’ve heard you use _Beatrice_ once or twice? Even with Amenadiel…”

She could feel his thumb gently going back and forth on her skin. “What else should I do? You humans… you use names so carelessly. You mangle them, you forget their meaning, you…” He sighed before raising their joined hands and kissing the inside of her wrist.

“But your brother calls you Luci.”

“He does.”

“And that is okay?”

“He’s… making a statement.” She made an encouraging sound, so he went on. “Well, now it’s mostly habit, I imagine. But… He calls me Light. Not Bringer of Light, just Light. As if I am Light, and because that is what our father made me to be: his light, to be used for his purpose. But while it was part of me for a long time, I… I… I am not only that. I am not his thing, his tool; I am… I am…” His voice petered out. “I carry it, but I am not _it_. I am not his. Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Did she? Chloe wasn’t sure, but… it made sense. Somehow. “I think I do. A little.” She’d carried her mother’s expectations, too. And she’d thrown them away and followed the very path her mom hadn’t wanted her to take, the one that had claimed her father. Still, she would always be Penelope Decker’s daughter, she’d always be that chick from _Hot Tub High School_. And she’d always own it, too. She could only hope he’d find peace with it all, like she had; but his road was so much longer and rockier than hers. “What would you like me to call you?”

“Anything you like.”

“Even Samael?” She could have sworn his breathing stopped – or that time stopped, perhaps. She wasn’t supposed to know about that ancient name.

“Chloe…” He sounded rough. “You, you’ve remade me, you’ve given me everything, you’ve… you’re a miracle, you…” His voice broke. “It’s not his anymore in your mouth. It’s new again. I’m new again.”

His kiss was sloppy but heartfelt, and she marveled at the fast thumping under the palm she’d rested on his chest. It had been beating for so long, and she had so much power over it. They were too drained for more though, and after a while they rearranged themselves and let their bodies sink into the mattress, quiet and heavy.

She watched the dawn break as he pretended to fall asleep, his face buried in her hair and one arm around her middle. His breathing was too irregular to fool her but she let him have the pretense for now, while colors lit up the sky and early morning light played on the floorboards.

They’d truly brought light into each other’s lives, she thought. They’d created a warm, golden pool that had more than enough room for all their little family; a lighthouse to chase the darkness away and guide them to safety.

They’d carved out their own haven right here in the city of angels.


End file.
